Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Moor

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions -- that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

-- R.S. Thomas

(I'm unashamedly stealing this poem from my dear blogging friend, GretchenJoanna. If you'd like to know more about Welsh poet R.S. Thomas, you may read about him here.

2 comments:

  1. I loved the poem! I'm reminded of God speaking in I Kings 19:12...

    ReplyDelete

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